


When You Wake Up The World Will Come Around

by infraredphaeton



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dad!Caleb Widogast, Father Figures, Gen, Pre-Series, this is the familial equivalent of a fake married fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infraredphaeton/pseuds/infraredphaeton
Summary: When a chance encounter at a tavern in a very, very anti-goblin town reveals Nott's identity, Caleb casts a spell to hide her as a human- a young, human girl, who looks a lot like him.It's only natural to pretend that he's her father.It's just. Nott didn't expect to kind of *like* having a Dad.(pre-series, just an excuse to write fluffy family content)





	When You Wake Up The World Will Come Around

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's my first Critical Role fanfic and it's just a bunch of self-indulgent fluff. I kind of have a sequel in mind for a repeat experience after running into the rest of the party, but who knows. Who knows. I wrote this in between calls at work, so please, point out any errors, I had no access to anything to fact check myself.
> 
> Title from Fall Out Boy's Lullabye:

It takes one idiot, loudmouth drunk to ruin everything.

Nott and Caleb are hunkered down in the corner of their latest tavern- Nott is not necessarily untrusting of how Caleb is counting out the coin from their last con, but she's keeping an eye on him.

Just to be sure he doesn't miscount. They put a lot of effort into that job, and she wants to gather up all her riches and make a hoard, and never be hungry or cold again, and have lots of pretty, shiny trinkets, and wear soft clothes that never scratch or itch or leave her cold, and maybe Caleb can stay in the hoard too, if he promises to wash his hair.

His hair is very shiny, right after its been washed- bright, like copper pennies. It would be even better if it was bright like silver, or shiny like gold, but copper is Nott's third favourite metal, so Caleb's hair is very pretty.

Anyway, she's watching Caleb count out their little treasure hoard of copper and silver when a drunkard behind her decides it would be very funny to pull down her hood.

She's kept it up the whole two weeks they've been in Baycliff, after seeing the ranks of goblin heads skewered on the city walls, and Caleb had taken to having wide, worried eyes and holding her hand really really tightly as they hurry through the streets. She's not dumb, she can draw a conclusion. Goblin heads on sticks, Nott's a goblin, she'd like her head to not be on a stick...

It adds up to keeping her mask on whenever they're outside, and keeping her hood up all the time, except in their room.

But then, some drunk asshole decides it would be super funny to pull the hood down, and see what the little halfling girl has been hiding.

Then, the bar sees her long, twitching ears. Her coarse black hair. Her mottled green skin and bulbous yellow eyes, and things explode.

It happens like this:

Caleb reacts first, and says a few stuttered, accented words, before clearly giving up and casting Flame Bolt at the growing bar fight.

Then, the first drunkard closes on Nott, and lashes out with beefy fist, which she nimbly dodges.

A second ruffian climbs over the table, and goes to kick Nott in the face- the face! She's only a little girl! What's wrong with these people?- but manages to twist, and takes the boot to her shoulder instead.

Finally, Nott snaps out of her shock, and pulls her dagger, stabbing the man who pulled down her hood. He howls as it connects, digging deep into layers of muscle and fat and leaving blood to pour down the front of his tunic.

Then, with the rest of her action, she swipes the coins on the table into her purse and runs for the door.

Caleb will catch up. He's got Frumpkin, and Frumpkin is very good at finding Nott.

She reaches the door, and Caleb acts again, throwing up a set of glowing lights that mimic her shape- they peel out the door, heading left, and she knows that means she should definitely not go right.

That's what they'll expect.

So, yes, she goes right- for about three feet, enough to break line of sight- and then, she goes up, crawling along the inn's timber frame, and lets herself into their room.

There, she paces, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

About forty years later, Caleb lets himself in, nursing a broken nose and a black eye, looking mournfully at one of his books, which has been beaten almost as badly as him- pages torn, cover dirty.

"Caleb!" Nott shrieks and flies at him, practically climbing the human to see his injuries, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I should have done something, dodged him, I'm sorry! And now you're hurt, and it's my fault!"

"It's not your fault," Caleb mumbles, showing bloodied teeth, "but we're going to have to move quickly."

He scoops a healing potion out of his battered bag, and swallows it down, making a face at the taste. When he wipes the blood from his nose, the bruises come away with it, leaving him healed. His book is still damaged, though, and Nott knows which Caleb would prefer.

"Are we running? We can run-"

"No. No, we cannot run. They will be watching the city gates, hunting for a goblin."

"A goblin and a smelly man," Nott adds helpfully, "...not that I mind, Caleb. I think you bathe just the right amount."

For a moment, Caleb looks troubled by the concept that a small goblin child approves of his hygiene, but it passes quickly.

"...So what we need is to break the trail. To be something other than a goblin-"

"-and a smelly man-"

"so that they don't follow us."

Nott thinks for a moment. "I could make a disguise! I could be...I could be an abnormally small lizard man. Or a very large frog!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of being a human girl," Caleb says, as Nott is practicing her frog hops. It's all in the hop, for frog impersonation.

Nott stands.

"I don't look anything like a human girl," she says doubtfully. "I look a little bit like a frog."

"Ah, but you're forgetting," Caleb says, and lifts his hand, making little golden lights swirl between his fingers. "I know magic."

The ritual is really boring. Really, really boring. Nott has to sit in a circle and isn't allowed to run away even when Caleb cuts her hand- super deeply! It really hurts!- and wait while he chants things, and burns things, and it goes on forever.

It's at least eight months before Caleb says she's allowed to leave the circle. He hands over the amulet that will make her look like a human, which he made out of one of her collection pieces- a silver pocket watch, with a crystal face and delicate floral etchings. She's strung it on a pearl and garnet necklace, and it sits just on her collarbone, sparkling in the torchlight.

"I'm still a goblin," Nott says doubtfully, poking at the pocketwatch with a claw.

"Ah, ja, you'll need to say a magic word to turn the effect on and off," Caleb says, and Nott hums. "The word is Trembafoil."

"Tre-trembafoil?" Nott says carefully, and disappears.

Or, not really disappears. But everything that makes her Nott disappears. Instead of her shaky, clawed, scaly green hands, there are smooth, shell pink hands- her claws are still long and ragged, with dirt under them, but they're made of some kind of thin, bendable material, rather than sharp claw.

"Would you like to see what you look like?" Caleb asks, and Nott shakes her head. It's already strange, looking down at not-her-hands, with not-her-claws, she doesn't want to look at not-her-face, either.

"What about you, though, Caleb? They'll be looking for you, too, won't they?"

Caleb looks grim, and begins to rustle through his bag.

"Do you have a disguise?" she asks, moving over on feet that sit flat on the ground, rather than arching onto their toes.

"Yes," he says, and pulls out a bar of soap and a small wash bag.

Nott has seen that bag twice, in the eight months they've been travelling together.

"Oh, no...Caleb..." she bites her lip, and her teeth feel blunt. "Are you going to bathe?"

"It has to be done," he says, and then looks her up and down, "for both of us."

"No! I washed last week!" Nott says, backing away and lifting her hands to punch, "I don't need to!"

"Humans bathe more often," Caleb says, "and we need to hide ourselves as normal humans."

"You don't!"

"I'm not normal," Caleb picks her up, ignoring the way she bites his arm, and tucks her under one arm, the wash bag and soap under the other.

"I don't wanna be a normal human!" Nott wails, as they make their way to the bath house next door, and Caleb shushes her.

"Don't draw attention, Nott, not until we're disguised properly."

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry, Caleb! I just don't want-"

"I know." He says, face grim, and opens the door, faintly scented steam billowing out. "Admission for two, please."

The clerk behind the counter looks at the pair of them- dirty, ragged, a middle aged man and a little girl who is grinning nervously and trying to look like a harmless human girl.

"You two went out mudding today, huh?"

"Ja, it was her first time, isn't that right, Nott?" Caleb doesn't sound as nervous as Nott knows that he is. He's quiet, but he's got that intent lying voice, the one he usually uses for scamming magic books. It's kind of surprising, in a pleasant way, to think that Caleb ranks looking after Nott at the same level as getting magic books.

"Uhhhh..." Nott's eyes dart around the tiled room, looking for a lie, "Yes..."

"Well, we have a family room, so you can keep an eye on your daughter- make sure you wash behind your ears, young lady, or mushrooms will grow there," the clerk says, talking to her in that vaguely patronising, sing-songy way that humans like to address the young of their species.

Nott bares her teeth.

It may pass as a smile.

Caleb passes a couple of coppers over the counter, and the clerk passes over a pair of towels- big, fluffy, clean towels, not thin and ragged and worn to the nap. The one he gives to Nott has a duck embroidered in the corner and a hood sewn into it so it can be worn like a cloak.

Nobody has ever given Nott a duck towel-cloak before.

When they get into the bathing room, Caleb pulls a straight razor from his battered little wash bag, and looks at it mournfully, while Nott tries to avoid the steaming pool in the centre of the room. Maybe if she ignores it, it will go away.

It does not go away.

Almost a full hour later, they emerge, shiny and pink. Nott can't help examining her skinny pink legs, the same colour as Caleb's, and her hacked short hair is the same copper bright as Caleb's- they match, freshly washed, and Nott wonders if her human face looks like his too.

"That's better, you're a whole new pair of people now!" the clerk says warmly, as they return the towels. Nott doesn't want to. She likes the duck towel, but Caleb's still got his proper-lying voice on, and he's actually shaved and scrubbed and combed his hair back away from his face.

Combed his hair! Nott didn't even think Caleb had a comb. "Ready to head home to Mummy?" the clerk asks Nott, and she nods awkwardly, hiding behind Caleb's leg.

"Ja, we will need to get home before my wife worries," Caleb lies, and Nott judges how much attention the clerk is paying to her, and how well he is watching the towel pile, and feels an itch in her fingers.

"How long have you been married?" The clerk asks, focus switching to Caleb, as it tends to when Caleb is trying to be charming. The itch grows and spreads, up her arms, across her chest, fire cascading across her face like waves of biting ants, and she moves.

Nott conceals the duck towel beneath her cloak, and hides behind Caleb's leg again.

"Oh, almost ten years now, we were childhood sweethearts, you know?" Caleb half-whispers, and she tugs at his hand.

"Let's go, Caleb! Come on!"

Gods, she already feels guilty- Caleb said to lay low, that they need to break the trail. And what does Nott do? She steals from the place they're trying to set up their disguise at! Dumb! Stupid! Stupid!

"You heard the little tyke," the clerk laughs and reaches over the counter to ruffle Nott's hair.

She bares her teeth again, but manages to only flinch a little bit.

"But first, I was thinking," Caleb says, "as you can see, our clothes are still...quite muddy. I'd rather not take her home looking this way- is there a clothes shop nearby where we can purchase a new outfit or two?"

The clerk looks Caleb up and down, clearly judging his ragged coat and worn boots.

"Hmm. Handback’s Gladrag's, down the street and on the right- they have a great selection for kids and adults, and very affordable."

"My thanks," Caleb says, with a deep nod that's almost a bow, and takes Nott's hand again. "Come along."

 

* * *

 

 

Nott usually likes shopping. She likes getting new treasure, she likes seeing Caleb pore over his mouldy old books, and she loves adding to her collections.

Nott is not sure if she likes shopping for clothes. She doesn’t like the way that the shop lady coos over her pink cheeks and apparently blue eyes, and she doesn’t like the fact that the lady keeps ignoring her and talking to Caleb instead. Nott makes her own decisions, thank you very much. She has her own money and her own resources and her own ideas about what a small, easily damaged human should wear on their body.

Caleb doesn’t really seem to care what Nott wears, anyway, as long as she’s warm and comfortable. But at the moment, she needs to be something other than just warm and comfortable. She needs to be somebody completely different to herself. She hopes that means she doesn’t have to be cold and uncomfortable.

She passes through the racks of clothing, picking out pieces of clothing that make her think of a child who is not Nott. Not-Nott, for example, would probably wear a dress.

A dress, and a coat. Boots and tights. She tries to avoid anything that reminds her of her bandages and leathers, or her holey black cloak. She picks a dark blue dress and a dark brown coat, little ankle boots and thick woollen tights that make her think of the pictures on top of expensive chocolate boxes, or the advertisements in toy stores. She doesn’t know what her fake face looks like, but surely this outfit will make her look harmless.

“You found something?” Caleb asks, wincing at the price tags on his own set of not-Caleb clothing, and Nott nods, dumping the armful of clothing on top of his.

“I’m going to be in disguise,” she says, and hands over a couple of silvers when Caleb paws through his purse, alarmed by the total cost.

Nott picks up her not-her clothes and gets changed quickly, smoothing down the front of the dress and clenching her fingers in the folds of the skirt. It puffs out around her legs with an underlayer of white lace that hide her knives quite handily, and the woollen tights are warm and thick. She doesn’t really like the boots, they have stupid little heels on the back that make her a half-inch taller, but she’s used to walking on her toes, so it’s not hard to adjust. It’s just that these ankles aren’t built for that. Why would you hold your foot at an angle it’s not meant to be at? Humans are dumb. She pulls the coat on next- it’s shorter than Caleb’s, but in a similar colour and style, and she doesn’t feel as much like a walking target. She feels muggable. Scammable. She’s the sort of idiot that Nott steals from.

Not very Nott at all.

Nott emerges from the changing room and traipses over to Caleb, who is similarly not-Caleb looking in a fresh lawn shirt and a deep blue waistcoat, his hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and his eyes smudged with something dark that makes them look larger- a little make up goes a long way in making someone look different, and Caleb is not an expert, but he’s done enough to make himself look like someone who actively cares about his appearance.

Nott’s new boots click on the floor as she approaches, and the shop lady smiles at her. It’s weird. Nott’s not sure if she likes it.

“Your daughter is so cute,” the shop lady says, and Caleb’s smile goes all hard and brittle and they leave quickly after that.

The enchantment, cobbled together with all of Caleb’s spell slots and a lot of desperate work, will last for three days. So far, it’s been six hours, and Nott is already ill at ease. Caleb piggy back carries her back to the new inn they’ve settled in, and Nott tries not to pay attention to her weird, stubby pink fingers. Once inside their room, Caleb shakes her slightly, and she hops down, kicking off her stupid boots and taking a seat on the bed.

“I am sorry that I acted that way in public. I know that this situation is not…to your liking,” Caleb says delicately, and Nott shakes her head rapidly. It’s not like she minds holding Caleb’s hand, or letting him guide her across the street, or even helping her with her coat- toggles are surprisingly difficult, when you don’t have claws. What she minds is seeing how all these people treat her now. They coo and entreat and spoil- she’s had pieces of candy pushed into her hands, multiple hair ruffles, a shopkeeper called her precocious!- but she’s still Nott. She’s the same person. But they don’t chase her with brooms or serve her brandy now. They don’t watch her like she’s going to steal- which she is, that’s a reasonable precaution, but she’s starting to realise, they don’t hate her because she’s a thief, or because of her reedy voice, but because she is a goblin.

After all, she’s never not been a goblin. She’s had nothing to compare it to.

“Shall we get some dinner?” Nott suggests, kicking her legs against the side of the bed. Caleb set down his bag, and looks her up and down for a moment.

“Sure.” He pauses for a moment, “Hey. Have you ever heard of The Fisherman’s Daughter?”

“Yeah, but you need two people who look like they’re related- ohhhh.”

Caleb smiles a little and reaches to offer her a hand up. At first, she flinches, as usual, but after a moment, accepts it, jumping down off the bed.

“I think we could both use a free meal tonight.”

 

* * *

 

 

“They really all thought I was your daughter,” Nott says, swinging off Caleb’s hand. They kind of match now, in their brown coats and blue clothes, and she kind of likes that someone might see them in the street and assume that they’re related. That some of their marks might think they’re related too- well, that’s just funny.

Assume that Caleb is her dad.

“Well, you know how I used some of my blood in the ritual?”

Nott nods. Caleb bled all over her favourite pocket watch, and put one of his hair behind the winding mechanism.

“It means that your human seeming,” he gestures at her, from her boots to her copper hair, “is based on me.”

“Like real family?”

“Indeed.” Caleb says, and scruffs up her hair. Nott wonders how much she looks like Caleb, whether she has that little furrow between her brows or the thin jaw and pointed chin. She’s always been kind of pointy, after all. Maybe it translates. “You are my friend, Nott, and I owe you everything. Lending you my features for a few days is the least I can do.”

That tracks. Caleb feels like he owes her a lot, and always ignores that she owes him a lot too. They owe each other a lot, and they’re both a little fragile. That’s why this partnership works.

“Oi, you!”

It’s one of the ruffians, and Nott feels herself bristle, feet settling her in a combat stance as she reaches into her new dress for her favourite knife.

Then, Caleb shoots her a look, and whirls around in surprise, putting a hand in front of her protectively.

Right. Harmless human girl. What would a harmless human girl do, confronted with a big, angry man who smelled of alcohol?

“Yes?” Caleb says, and manages to smooth most of his accent away. He sounds a bit confused, like he definitely didn’t get punched ten times by this same man only a few hours ago.

“Where’s that gobbo, huh?” He looms closer, and Nott bursts into theatrical tears. “Tell us where she is, and we’ll let you live…mostly... Wait, what?”

They aren’t very good, she’s given herself hiccups, and although she’s trying her best, she’s pretty sure she looks more feral than distressed, but people have stopped in the street and are watching disapprovingly.

Caleb immediately turns and drops to his knees, scooping Nott into a hug and patting the back of her hair, big fingers sliding across her scalp comfortingly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, and even though she can’t see, she knows he’s shooting the ruffian an outraged look. Quite a few other people on the street are shooting him an outraged look, too. “He won’t hurt you.”

“B-but he’s going to hurt you! He said!” she cries out, and then realises she can really just mess this guy up. There’s a sneak attach ready here, thanks to the advantage her friend has given her. Nott is a rogue. She takes the shot. “Don’t let him hurt you, D-Daddy!”

Caleb goes stiff for like, a half second. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, I won’t let him hurt me,” he says softly, and actually scoops her up, letting her bury her head in his shoulder. He smells clean and fresh, like soap and freshly laundered clothes- and to be honest, she kind of hates it. Caleb is meant to smell like a library that got lost on a twenty mile hike. Like sweat and silverfish and moulding paper and dirt.

“How dare you!” An older lady with a parasol and an absolutely massive hat has come to their rescue. “You made a little girl cry!” She looks at Nott, who sniffs dramatically and continues to hide her face in Caleb’s collar, spreading as much snot as possible.

“You monster!” Another older lady, one of the ones Nott is fairly certain spat at her earlier this week, “How could you?! Sir, is your daughter okay?”

She grins into Caleb’s shirt as he strokes her hair again.

“It’s just…” Nott recognises victory in Caleb’s trembling voice, “ever since her mother died, she’s been very fragile…”

“Her mother-“

“Oh no, the poor mite!”

“It’s just the two of you?”

“Yes, since her mother…passed…she’s been very protective of me.” She thinks he might be mouthing something- his jaw is moving but she can’t hear his voice- and the women who have gathered around him all gasp.

“And you!”

They’ve rounded on the ruffian, and Caleb slips back into the crowd a little.

“He’s been harbouring a goblin!” He finally speaks up, and Nott risks a peek over Caleb’s shoulder. The ruffian is looking very hard done by, and she hides her grin.

“A single father? A responsible, hard working single father?” The woman says scathingly.

“He’s a drifter- a conman-“

“Does he look like a drifter and a conman?” Another bystander pipes up, and shakes his head at the ruffian.

“You’ve been drinking too much- a case of mistaken identity, friend,” Caleb says, still cradling Nott, “there’s no need to be harsh to him. An honest mistake, I think.”

“B-but Daddy,” Nott sniffles, “he w-wanted to hurt you!”

“You’re rubbing it in a little much,” Caleb hisses in her ear, “we’ll leave town tonight, we don’t want him to remember us!”

He begs off from the well meaning people by saying that Nott is tired, and she needs her sleep. It’s not entirely untrue. She hides in his shirt collar all the way back to the inn, and the inn keeper coos over Caleb carrying his sleeping daughter.

“Nott? Are you asleep?”

She feels wretched, and tired, and she wants a drink very badly, but more than that, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even Caleb- so she doesn’t respond, letting her breath even out against his cheek.

“Ah. Well, it has been a long day,” Caleb murmurs, and sets her down on the bed, pulling off her shoes and settling the blanket over her. “Sleep well, my friend.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nott wakes up first, as usual, a little before sunrise, and the first thing she does is look down.

Still pink. She slips the flask from her coat pocket and takes a deep drought of cheap whiskey, and feels the pressure back off. She’ll be fine. She’s always fine. She slides out of bed and flaps her coat a few times, getting the wrinkles out, before she slides it on. Caleb is still asleep, curled up on the other side of the bed in his coat, boots settled neatly next to him, and Nott knows she would wait for him to wake up before she leaves the room.

She waits a couple of excruciating millenia before slipping out the door and descending the stairs on stocking feet, boots slung over her shoulders. The inn keeper who greeted them the day before is gone, replaced by a young lady who looks a lot like him- maybe a daughter, or a much younger sibling- and she offers Nott a small, slightly surprised smile as she tries to sneak down the stairs to the common room. She fumbles the check, however, and instead slips on the runner, falling down the stairs in a clatter of wood and bones, boots connecting with her chin as she comes to a stop on the floor.

“Are you alright?” The lady asks, rushing over and reaching to help Nott. She can’t help flinching at her reaching hand, and the lady stops in her tracks.

“I-I’m fine, thank you, stop looking at me now I am completely normal and uninteresting,” Nott shrieks, jumping to her feet, and flees back upstairs, slamming the door to their room behind her.

Caleb stirs at the sound, but doesn’t actually wake, and Nott hides under the covers, watching the door, expecting the lady to appear and tell them to get out, that Nott was too disruptive, that…

“Nott? Are you okay?”

Caleb is awake, rubbing yesterday’s eyeliner away with one sleepy hand as he sits up slowly. Caleb always takes a lot of time to wake up, she thinks its an old person thing, the way his bones crack when he moves, the way his eyes stay half shut until his third cup of coffee, the way he likes to linger over his old books that he’s read a hundred times… not that she’s met many other old people in the mornings. Maybe Caleb is special that way, like the other ways he’s special.

“I’m sorry, Caleb, I messed up…”

He bolts upright, looking at her with concern, and the whole tale tumbles out. She definitely drew attention, she was definitely going to get them kicked out, all because she wanted to go sneaking even though Caleb worked so hard to hide them again…

Caleb nods thoughtfully, and stands up, his back making those weird snapping sounds. He circles around to stand in front of Nott, and drops to his knees carefully.

“You fell on your knees?”

Nott nods.

“Humans have more delicate skin, Nott. Let me see.”

She draws up her legs, and notices weird red marks on the knees of her stockings, scrapes and scratches on her hands and knees.

“We’ll need water to clean these,” Caleb says, and rises.

“They’re just little cuts, they’ll heal,” Nott says, “they don’t hurt that bad.”

“Maybe, but it’ll draw attention to see them untended,” Caleb says eventually, but Nott thinks that maybe he had wanted to say something else. Either way, he goes to the door, letting himself out, and Nott is left to wait.

He’s faster, this time, and returns before Nott wastes away of old age, and the lady opens the door. He’s carrying a tray with a faintly steaming bowl of water, several clean rags, and some little oatcakes, a jar of honey, fruits, and his usual cup of coffee. No alcohol, she notices, as the lady lets herself out, shooting Nott a concerned look as she closes the door.

“Sorry I took so long,” Caleb says, and unslings a second pair of woolen stockings, made for little girl legs, from over his shoulder. “Your tights have ripped. This will draw less attention.”

Nott nods, but she also notices that Caleb bought a pair that matches the ones she picked out, dark grey with little flowers embroidered on the sides.

“I’ll clean the cuts,” he doesn’t quite offer, putting the tray down on the table by the bed and taking a seat. She peels off the torn tights, and sticks up one not-as-knobbly-as-it-should-be leg. Caleb dips a rag in the water, and begins to carefully clean the scratches. It barely hurts, and she watches curiously as he wraps tiny cuts and dabs ointment on bruises that have gone a weird purple-red shade.

“Is this my breakfast?” Nott asks, picking up an oatcake and nibbling curiously. It’s sweet, and she usually eats eggs and bacon and sausages and ham and beer for breakfast, so it’s a bit strange. She kind of likes it, though.

“Ours. Our host made them specially. Apparently they were her favourite when she was your age.” He smiles at her, and takes an oatcake for himself, holding it in his mouth as he finishes the scrapes on her elbows and hands.

“Are we leaving today?”

“Ja,” Caleb nods. “That spell won’t last much longer, and we want to be well away from Baycliff when you get back to normal.”

Normal. Nott misses her own skin, but it’s been interesting, being a little human girl.

“So I’ll have to pretend to be your daughter again?”

“Ah. You could pass as my little sister, I suppose?” Caleb says, stroking his chin, “The age difference is a bit big…”

“No! No, daughter is fine,” Nott says, rolling the new stockings up her legs as Caleb turns away politely. “I just...wanted to check our cover.”

“Mm,” Caleb hums, and looks at Nott with a searching gaze.

“Are- are we leaving straight away?”

“Is there something else you’d like to do?”

“Well- well, we could do the Fisherman’s daughter again! Or the Rabbit Turnabout! Or the Cankersitter! Or the Magical Mushroom-”

“We do need some more money…” Caleb thinks aloud, looking down at his coin purse, “and we won’t be coming back here in a long time.”

“Oh! Oh! The Innkeeper’s Sandwich!”

Caleb’s brows raise. “The Innkeeper’s Sandwich? How are we going to do that with just two people?”

Nott grins, and lays out her plan.

 

* * *

 

 

Caleb gives Nott a piggyback ride on the way out of Baycliff, and she accidentally sees them in the reflection of a jewellery store window. There’s a taller man, in a battered brown coat, with reddish brown hair like newly minted copper, and he’s got his hands hooked behind the knees of a little girl. She has the same copper hair, cut unevenly and springing all around her head, but Nott can still see the shape of her face- a thin jaw, big, almost bulbous eyes and a thin bladed nose, like someone had stuck Nott and Caleb in a pestle and smashed them together. Her eyes are wide, almost scared looking, and she’s got her face buried in the back of her father’s coat, nose concealed in his collar, pressed against the back of his neck. She’s very small, Nott thinks distantly. No wonder Caleb has been holding her hand so much, and carrying her everywhere. The dress is very pretty. Nicer than anything Nott has ever had before. Her shoes look like doll shoes, shined up like that, and they look right together, miniature and original. Matching coats, matching hair, the same jaw and similar noses- she even has the little wrinkle between her brows that he has.

 

Her eyes snap away, just in time to hear Caleb wish the guard a quiet ‘good day’ as they step out of the town gate, but he doesn’t let her down off his back until they settle down for the evening.

“Just say the magic word again,” Caleb instructs her, having changed back into his proper clothes, hair wild- as it should be.

“Trembafoil,” Nott says softly, and watches green ripple up her hands, thin nails turning to proper claws.

She packs away the pretty dress, and the replacement tights Caleb gave her. She folds up her coat, and puts it in her bag, and draws out her bandages and her armour, and her ragged cloak. She can see properly again, the shadows lightening as her dark vision kicks back in. She takes off the necklace, and looks at it carefully.

It’s magic, so maybe it’s Caleb’s. But it’s magic for _her_ , and it’s _her_ treasure.

“Keep it safe,” Caleb says. “It still has about thirty hours of human in it. We might need it again, ja?”

Nott nods, and tucks it away in her most secret, most safe pouch. The one that she keeps her mask in, that she keeps her flask in. The one that she keeps the things she _cannot lose_ no matter what.

After all. She might need it again. Maybe next time, she would need to play the role of ‘Caleb’s daughter’ even harder. More hugs. More hair ruffles. More calling him ‘dad’.

Maybe.

* * *

 

_It doesn't matter how you feel_   
_Life is just a Ferris wheel_   
_It's always up and down_   
_Don't make a sound_   
  
_When you wake up the world will come around_   
_When you wake up the world will come around_   
  
_It's just the sweet weather and the peacock feathers_   
_In the morning, it will all be better_   
_It's not what it seems in the land of dreams_   
_Don't worry your head just go to sleep_


End file.
